


Peanuts and Whiskey

by tty9



Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Superwolf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-06
Updated: 2014-02-06
Packaged: 2018-01-11 08:50:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1171095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tty9/pseuds/tty9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek needs to clear his head, to forget about a certain brown-eyed teenager.<br/>While running away he meets a certain hunter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peanuts and Whiskey

**Author's Note:**

> So this kind of was inspired by a post I made about my headcannon of Sheriff Stilinski being older Dean Winchester... and then I started to notice all the similarities between Dean and Stiles.

Derek had no idea where he was driving. He just drove. He needed to clear his head, clear his thoughts of everything.

 

_“I like you, okay!” Stiles yelled, his face flushed with anger and humiliation._

Derek snapped his hand back from where it had been resting on Stiles’s shoulder.

_“I_ like _you, like you. And I know its stupid, and I know I’m just a dumb kid, believe me Scott’s already told me,” Stiles ran a hand across his face in defeat, “ but I can’t get you out of my head and I know you don’t understand or feel the same way. I know.”_

_“No. I guess I don’t.” Derek said, his voice cracking slightly with the lie._

_“Just go, please.”_

 

He was miles away from Beacon Hills by now, out of the county, out of the state. His heart was still hammering.

 

He pulled up to a bar, the broken sign that should have said ‘Woody’s’ was missing the apostrophe and that wasn’t the shadiest looking thing about it. Perfect, just where Derek belonged.

 

He parked his camero in the car park next to an equally sleek black chevy, an impala. Derek frowned, Stiles would love it. Derek shook his head and got out of his car, only just restraining from slamming his door into the fucking impala. 

 

He adjusted the collar on his leather jacket and strode into the bar. It looked even more dire on the inside. An ancient man tended the bar. Well, he smeared the dirty counter with an even dirtier rag.

 

There were only five customers there. A middle-aged woman dressed in a tight red dress was occupying a booth, giggling and draping her body over a shabby man with no front teeth as he tucked notes into her bust. Another couple who looked barely legal occupied another booth as they bickered over… yep that was a baby on the table… in a laundry hamper.

 

Derek rolled his eyes and made his way over to the bar, where the final customer sat. He sat on the stool, grateful for his were-reflexes when it wobbled dangerously and almost sent Derek spilling.

 

“Jack Daniels.” He said to the bartender reaching into his back pocket for his wallet.

 

_“Derek! Hey buddy, what are you doing here?” Stiles whirled around in his desk chair to face the werewolf who had just climbed in his window._

_“What are you doing?” Derek said pausing mid-stride. The room stank of alcohol._

_“I’m prrretty sure you can smell the scotch dude. And theres noooo point lying to you because you can tell.” He waved his hand dismissively._

_“Stiles.” Derek said, his expression stern._

_“Can it, Wolfy.” Stiles said. “Just tell me what you want me to research.”_

_“I’m not here for that.” Derek cautiously stepped closer._

_“Who’s dying now?” Stiles spat, “because my dad’s already in hospital so it can’t be him. Is it Scott? Melissa? WHO?!” Stiles choked on the last word and that was all Derek needed to surge forward and pry the bottle of Jack Daniels out of his hand._

_“No one, Stiles. I just wanted to see if you were okay.”_

 

“Let me get this.” The other customer said chucking a twenty in front of the bartender. Derek turned to look the man over. He was handsome, with light brown hair and a chiselled jaw.

 

“Uh thanks.” Derek cleared his throat.

 

“No problemo, us scotchies gotta stick together.” He winked lifting his own glass of whiskey in a cheers to Derek, “The names Dean.”

 

“Derek.” He replied, the man tilted his head back slightly and smiled. It was more of a smirk than a smile, head at an angle, the smile lopsided and only showing one half of his perfectly straight teeth. Derek didn’t think he’d ever seen teeth so straight, except on Stiles, maybe they'd both had braces.

 

“So what brings you to the middle of nowhere.” Dean said bringing Derek back to the present, “You sure don’t look like you belong in hicks-ville with those leathers.

 

“Neither do you.” Derek nodded at the man’s own tan leather jacket and black t-shirt.

 

“Ah,” The man chuckled, “How about now.” Dean shucked of his jacket to reveal a green plaid button down with it’s sleeves rolled up.

 

“That’s from American Eagle.” Derek huffed, amused.

 

“Dude, how could you tell?” Dean grinned, impressed.

 

“My, uh friend has it… in red.” Derek said, clearing his throat because, damn he had just gotten Stiles out of his mind.

 

“Well you friend’s got style.” The man chuckled, grabbing a handful of bar nuts from a bowl on the table and shoving the whole lot into his mouth at once. Derek grimaced, those nuts did not look clean. Dean grabbed another handful not even waiting to chew the first before shoving the second into his mouth, he chewed obnoxiously, not even bothering to shut his mouth. Well that was Derek’s hope for Stiles growing out of the habit dimmed.

 

“So uh,” Derek started, shaking his head to try and empty it, “You here for business or pleasure?” Dean swallowed and Derek could see his tongue moving against his cheek, trying to scoop out the left-over mush in his teeth before he answered.

 

“Business, bit of both really.” Dean shrugged. “Its kind of the family business I got roped into following my dad’s footsteps and all. I was a sheriff for a while though.” His chest puffed up with pride, and Derek was reminded of every-time Stiles talked about his father.

 

“That where your heart lies? The law?” Derek smiled, trying to focus on the conversation at hand, “Cause if it is I should warn you, I’m pretty sure there’s a hooker in here.”

 

Dean spluttered turning bright red. “You’re-?”

 

“Wha- no no no I was talking about her.” Derek pointed to the red dressed woman, equally flushed, more-so when Dean’s relived chuff and grin reminded him of a certain teenager.

 

“Oh yeah, right. Well um no. I don’t think they employ people who have been arrested as much as I have.” Dean chuckled, like it was a joke, as he took a sip of whiskey.

 

“For prostitution?” Derek asked a smirk playing on his lips. Dean promptly choked on his drink, eyes tearing up.

 

“Hah.” Dean rasped between small coughs, “No but you’re funny.” Derek’s smirk fell slightly.

 

_“Hah, you’re funny.” Stiles genuinely snorted,_

_“You’re the first person who’s noticed.” Derek grumbled._

_“Dude, I just gave you a compliment. Smile.” Derek grimaced, trying not to give in to the request. He brought his fangs out to try and stop himself. It didn’t work, and his lips lost the battle, parting into a grin and bearing his fangs into a ridiculous expression._

_Stiles threw his head back in the most gleeful laugh, clapping his hands together his shoulders shaking. “Oh man, never change.”_

“So I’ve been told.” Derek turned back to his glass, wishing that just once he the alcohol would affect him like a human.

 

“So you never said why you were here? Mystery man.” The stranger cocked his head and licked his lips. His plush succulent lips with the overly angled cupid’s bow that Derek should want to kiss… but.

 

“Nothing really, just getting away from family drama.”

 

“Oh I feel you man, sometimes you just need space… and a distraction.” He looked Derek up and down suggestively.

 

“Subtle.” Derek said raising his eyebrow at Dean’s flirting techniques, amused. He looked like a horny teenager.

 

“I’m that obvious? Son of a bitch!” Dean squeaked, mock incredulous.

 

_“Son of a bitch!” Stiles hissed clutching is fist from where it had just collided with Derek’s shoulder._

_“I told you not to hit me.” Derek sighed, raising his eyebrow._

_“Yeah well you were being an asshole. You think I’m just going to take that?” he argued and “Son of a mother freakin mm.” he let out a yelp as Derek grabbed his hand to inspect._

_“Its your own fault.” Derek said prodding at the knuckle, “Its not broken.”_

_“I know that dude, you can’t hurt me even if you tried.” Stiles yanked back his hand._

_“Oh really?” Derek said flashing his eyes in a challenge._

_“I know you wouldn’t.” Stiles said, with such honestly that it caught Derek off-guard._

 

“Want to get out of here?” Derek asked.

 

“Hell yeah.” Dean downed the last of his whiskey, tugging his jacket on as he followed Derek into the car park. Derek stopped behind his camaro and Dean stopped leaning onto the impala. Figures.

 

“Your car or mine?” Derek said licking his lips and taking a step towards Dean. 

 

“Mine. I can be pretty stubborn about these kind of things.”

 

_“Fuck. Stiles why do you have to be so stubborn?” Derek snapped._

_“Why do you have to be such an ass?” Stiles barked back, his grip on the ladder slipping._

_“Just go!” Derek shouted, his own hands also slipping on the rungs._

_“I’m not leaving you to die Derek. So get the fuck up here and climb over me.” Derek growled and pulled himself up, flames licking his boots as he used all of his strength to climb over Stiles, using him as a bridge to get over the six supernatural repelling rungs._

_Stiles let out a pained noise as he bared the werewolf’s weight but he never let go._

 

Dean tugged Derek towards him by his leather jacket and mashed their lips together. The kiss was nice, kind of sloppy and nutty tasting, but nice all the same. Derek kissed back, his eyes shut tight as he just focused on the feel of lips and tongue against his. 

 

After a bit the kiss broke, and Dean rested his forhead against Derek’s so they could pant wetly in the inch of space between them. Dean gazed up at him. His green eyes were wide and framed with long angelic lashes. They looked like they were eyes meant for only innocence but instead held the scars of war and pain. A pain Derek could relate to, one of love and loss.

 

“I think I’m just doing this to distract me from someone.” Derek whispered into the gap.

 

“You and me both.” Dean said panting, before leaning back in for another kiss. His tongue pushed into Derek’s mouth as he hooked his fingers into Derek’s belt loops.

 

_“Stay still, Stiles.” Derek hissed from their hidden spot in the School library. Stiles jostled a bit more until Derek unable to move his arms much instead hooked his fingers through the loops on Stiles’s jeans to stop his hips from moving._

_“Hey,” Stiles hissed back from where they were crammed behind a bookshelf. “How would you like that.” Stiles yanked Derek’s belt loop and Derek grunted. “Not nice is it?”_

_“Shut up, Stiles.”_

 

“I-I can’t do this.” Derek stuttered, pulling back. “I think I love him.” He gasped at the realisation. “Oh my God. I _do_ love him.”

 

“You and me both.” Dean muttered as he stepped back, but it was quieter this time. Defeated.

 

“I should tell him.” Derek said, snapping to reality and fishing his keys out of his pocket.

 

“Yeah, we should.” He heard Dean whisper as Derek clambered into his car and pulled out, leaving Dean leaning on the hood of his car, rubbing a palm over his face wearily.

 

As he turned out of the road his werewolf healing heard Dean say something into the empty parking lot. “Cas?”

 

Derek broke the speeding limit and probably a number of other traffic violation but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He needed to get back.

 

The sun was beginning to rise by the time he reached Beacon Hill’s and parked down the road from Stiles’s house. He ran to the house, not caring if he looked too fast to be human. Why hadn’t he just realised this before? He climbed easily into the teenager’s window, pausing to close it behind him. It was cold outside.

 

He looked at Stiles, buried under a pile of blankets, his feet poking out of the bottom. He crept forward, taking in Stiles’s pale skin, his upturned nose, the moles speckled across his cheek, the things Dean was missing. The boy’s forehead was creased in a frown and Derek wanted to stroke his thumb across it and take all Stiles’s troubles away.

 

“Stiles.” Derek whispered, and then, “Wake up.”

 

“Mmderk.” Stiles mumbled blearily, his eyelids fluttering.

 

“Yeah, its me.” Derek said softly, his hand stopping just short of cupping Stiles’s cheek. “I want to apologise.”

 

“Mmm.” Stiles mumbled again, blinking his eyes open and pulling a hand out of his blankets to rub at them. “For being an ass?”

 

“Well yeah.” Derek said. “But also for lying.” Stiles tilted his head back to look at Derek with a frown before propping himself up on an elbow.

 

“You lied to me?” He sounded hurt.

 

“Yes.” Derek confessed, “I was shitty to you. I did know how you felt.”

 

“You _knew_ I liked you?” Stiles said, anger bubbling.

 

“No.” Derek took a deep breath, “I know what it feels like to not be able to get someone out of my head. I know because I just spend the night trying to get you out of my head and couldn’t. I know what its like to like someone, okay but I wasn’t lying about that because I don’t like you and I don’t know how to say this-“ he breathed again willing for his voice to stay steady.

 

“Gee thanks for rubbing it-“ Stiles started to interject before Derek finished.

 

“-I love you.” Derek finished. Stiles started at him, his mouth still open.

 

“You do?” Stiles croaked before returning to his open-mouthed expression.

 

“Yeah.” Derek admitted. “You don’t have to feel the same way, I know you like me but I-“ Derek was stopped by a hand clamped over his mouth.

 

“Well them I’m sorry for lying too.” Stiles said. And for a split second Derek panicked that all that Stiles had said before had been a sick joke. “Because I don’t like-but-love you too.”

 

Derek beamed as Stiles removed his hand and instead cupped the back of Derek’s neck and pulling him in for a soft, open mouthed kiss.

 

“You taste like peanuts and whiskey.” Stiles whispered as he ran his fingers through Derek’s hair.

 

“Sorry.” Derek replied, smoothing a thumb over Stile’s cheekbone.

 

“Its okay.” Stiles murmured kissing Derek’s palm. “My breath stinks too.”

 

“No.” Derek said leaning back in for another kiss. “You taste perfect, just like a Stiles.”  


End file.
